Unexpected Salvation: Age of Ishtar part 7

As Skye was spiraling deeper into realization of his inevitable doom, someone approached from behind. Semias walked past him to his sister Evangeline and bowed his silver mane before her. "Lady Evangeline Dumas, Milady Estelle Montoya of the Grigori stable has sent a message with me," He began, "First; she would like to congratulate you on your brother. She has found him rather impressive. Second, she and others have talked with the Matron of the Games who has decided that the degree of interest he's attracted justifies giving him a private auction tonight while interest is still fresh. The Matron of the Games thinks it'll better serve your interests in allowing the buyers to bid while still excited, and better serve the other sellers by not putting them in as much direct competition with your brother at the public auction tomorrow night (there's a fear that he may lower the rest of the market).  Also, many of the buyers have let her know they're rather impatient to get at him.  Anyways, the Matron said she herself would be willing to act as auctioneer if you're agreeable to proceeding."

Everyone looked to Evangeline while she considered. "I do not see any good reason why we should not proceed with the auction immediately if it is in such high demand," She responded after a short deliberation, "If I might ask though, why were you sent instead of a representative of the Matron of the Games?"

"Well, Milady and some of her investors were of the more vocal in asking for the earlier time, and they didn't want to wait for the Matron to send for her own messenger or summon you herself when I was already there."

"As well they should Semias," one of the investors who had been listening to Evangeline interjected, "Estelle is right to speak so highly of your utility. There may not be anything a man can do that the right woman could not do better if she put her mind to it, but it is just so much more convenient at times to just let the man. Plus, they are just so adorable when they find themselves to be useful."

"Thank you kindly," Semias bowed with a faint smile, "I'm sure Milady appreciates your support as always. If we're going to get this started, then could you ladies and Skye please follow me?"

Semias gave a hand signal to someone on the far side of the hall and an obviously aged woman began walking up the platform where the band was playing. As they walked down the stairs the band stopped playing and she introduced herself as the Matron of the Games that had been played yesterday. She announced that it had been decided that the auction for Skye Dumas would be held presently. She then requested the clearing of the front of the dance floor except of those who had an intention of bidding on the young man to be sold and their attached parties. It's a toss up which is harder to move through: a crowd that is relatively static and thus has few paths through it, or one that has had a shift in its attention and thus took on the appearance of a kicked ants nest in slow motion.
Slowly they made it to the stage, and Semias patted Skye on the back as he went to find where Estelle would be situating herself for the bidding. Skye and Evangeline climbed the stage and Skye did his best to quiet his racing mind and present himself as best he could. He shut out the entire world except for his breathing and the path he was walking. Not every eye in the hall was on him. There were no eyes, and there was no hall. There was only the air and the stage he was walking on. Everything else was unimportant. What if Kukri was watching him? No, no distracting thoughts. He was a young and beautiful god of war with the deadly grace of a slithering viper, but the calm inevitability of glacial ice. Nothing could be allowed to break that, not even the screaming of his heart.

He did not search for her face as he posed while his sister listed and described his achievements and marketable qualities. He surveyed the crowd coolly and calmly.  He wasn't looking at any of them; his eyes were kept dreamily unfocused. He can't let her in his mind like this, it was just one dance, and it was just one kiss. This was the most important night yet of his nineteen years. This was the night where it would be decided who would be the woman to own him. This was the night where he would finally find out how much he was worth according to the most honest and heartless appraiser of all: the open market. Tonight would set the path for the rest of his life.  Tonight, if he sold well, he could do one last thing as his mothers ward. He could bring in a good return on her investment. Evangeline rose to a crescendo in her description of how wonderful, life changing, and multifunctional of a product he was.  She brought it to a climax of, "He can be yours and yours alone; forever or until you sell him for a profit. Ladies start your biding!"

Gladys Minuet, the Matron of the Games, started the biding low. She started out at half of his most recent appraised price. Bids flew from the right and left. They climbed higher and higher. In just the first little bit they rose past his appraised price with seven bidders staying active. Skye tried not to look at who was bidding. He tried to just keep moving from pose to pose. He couldn't stop himself from looking for Estelle Montoya and her daughters once the bidding began to slow around twice his appraised price. She was still bidding; Kris was standing right beside her with a small huddle of investors around them. Kukri sulked at the edge of the group while her father seemed to be trying unsuccessfully to cheer her up. There were three other bidders still active at that point. The two mega stable representatives seemed uncertain whether they were trying to get Skye for themselves or just keep the other from getting him, and one of the women he barely remembered from the group around Evangeline seemed less and less certain how much she wanted him. Skye turned his back to the audience, flexed everything he could, and the woman whose name he could not remember shot her hand up to bid again.

Around two and a half times the price on his last appraisal both of the mega stable representatives dropped out. It had gotten too rich for either of their tastes, but once the Horde representative dropped out the woman from Legion seemed to decide she had no good reason to continue. It was down to the last two bidders; Estelle Montoya and the woman who Skye could not for the life of him remember the name of. By this time Skye was definitely getting into his little display he was doing on the stage to entice the bidding higher. His body was glistening from the poses and gyrations he was moving through to show all the assets he could in the best possible light. Skye was mentally cursing Kayvan for putting the restriction on what postures he could display by injuring his arm. Then again, Kayvan and the four others Kayvan had fought were dead and he just had a hurt arm. Skye had gotten by far the better end of that deal.

After the price passed the point of three times his appraised value, the woman whose name he did not know went to raise her hand again. One of her friends had walked forward from the crowd and whispered something in her ear, however. She gave him one more wistful glance and stepped back into the crowd. The Grigori investors were ecstatic. They were jumping up and down, hugging one another, and cheering.  Kris and Estelle looked overjoyed, and Kukri looked as if she was going to be sick.

Skye was completely uncertain what he was getting into, but he was certain he had sold for more than double the price he had hoped he might go for. He didn't know why his mother didn't want him any more, or why she had wanted him in the first place. This would make her proud, though. It was the last thing he would do as her ward, but he had done well. Of course, he couldn't take all the credit. Evangeline had been amazing. She had taken him from being an unknown rookie, almost undifferentiable from any other gladiator in the games who was up for sale, and had raised him to the level of buyers clamoring for a private auction on the spot. She was a lecherous drunk, but she was an amazing lecherous drunk. He had gone for over three times his appraisal price. That only tended to happen when there were several large factors the appraiser had overlooked or the bidders were somehow whipped into a mad frenzy for the man on the block. Skye didn't know of any large factors that would have kept his appraisal artificially low, so mass hysteria was the only good explanation.

Evangeline was hugging him, she was actually crying. She was saying how proud of him she was, how well he had done, and how she hoped she would be able to see him often. "Clarence and you do play together so well," she repeated with a light tinge of red to the whites of her eyes, "I love you baby brother, we all do. You know that don't you? I know some of our sisters may show it in ways that are hard to see, and mother may have kept you at arms reach recently, but we all love you and hope to see you whenever possible. Even if we don't see one another often, make sure to write, and we'll do our best to write as well. Especially remember Cleo, she may not remember to keep up contact very well, but she has always been so fond of you and it means so much to her whenever she hears from you."

Skye hugged his sister back with his good arm, tears welling up in his eyes. His voice trembled, "I will, I love you all too. I have the best family in all the worlds. Thank you. Thank you for being here for me. It's meant so much to have you here.  Thank you."

After a few moments they released their embrace. Estelle was up on the stage. She began working out with Evangeline how his belongings would be picked up and signing transfer of guardianship papers. Semias was soon by his side welcoming him to the stable. Evidently, they had acquired a series of barracks trailer modules when they moved their formal residence to this region. When they traveled, instead of packing up on a passenger craft, they would just be hauled to their destination by a bulk cargo ship, train, tractor craft, or even any interplanetary standard intermodal transport (ISIT) without ever having to leave their new home. "They still need a lot of work done," Semias warned, "But, when they are finished, they will be quite the cozy little mobile home."

Kris ran up smiling, "I couldn't have hoped for a better reaction between you and my sister. That was amazing the way you were on the dance floor with her. I am so glad we got you."

"If you don't mind the observation," Skye responded confusedly, "She ran away from me and looks less than pleased that your mother won the auction."

"Oh, she's just worried because there is no way Cathy will approve of you."  Kris brushed his concerns aside.

"Who's Cathy?"

"Cathy," Semias answered with a grimace, "Is Kukri's fiancé."

The Second Knife Sister: Age of Ishtar part 6

Skye escorted Kris Montoya back to where her parents and sister stood watching and discussing. As he released her hand, he bowed and thanked her for the splendid dance. He then turned to Kukri, and with an additional slight bow, asked her, "Would you allow me the supreme honor of escorting you to the floor?"

Her eyes met his, and it took all of his strength not to melt into a puddle on the floor. She reached out to his offered hand, and Skye could swear he felt a warm glow where she touched. Struggling to keep his cool composure, he led her to the floor. Each step felt as though it was taking ages, that he was going too slowly, even though he knew he could not go any faster without his walk being describable as brisk. His nerves made him feel hyper aware, time was slowing down, noises were louder, images were sharper, and her warm hand in his was a fire blazing into an inferno. The breathing helped, but he could swear sweat droplets would be breaking out on his forehead soon. As they reached an open place to begin, he turned, looked back into the depthless pools that were her eyes, wrapped his arm around her waist, pulled her towards himself, and began to dance before he could lose his nerve and turn into a twitching mass on the ground.

Skye would not have believed two women who looked so similar could feel so different if he had not felt for himself. Both were amazing dancers. That could not be denied. Kris had been a willow branch, stiff but yielding wherever the wind blows her; never breaking, yet always returning to where she began. Kukri was water in his hands. Wherever he led she didn't follow, she flowed. She offered no resistance, she almost seemed to move before he directed her; but he wasn't certain if he could stop her if he tried. If he let go and walked away, he wasn't certain she would stop to see where he had gone. Her movement said she would continue the dance alone if she must. Perhaps she would flow to wherever he had gone. Perhaps she would continue until he returned. Dancing with Kris was to dance with a partner who complimented his movements. Dancing with Kukri was almost to become one with his partner. While there was little visible difference in their figures standing still, the feel of their backs as they moved was almost as if they were entirely different creatures. Kris was wiry muscle. Her body was a coiled spring like Skye’s own. Kukri was softer, her subtle curves more passively flowing. She did not lack her sister’s strength; it was just dormant and relaxed.

They danced faster and more complex maneuvers. They flowed through movements he never would have thought possible to guide his partner through with one hand. She read from his body sequences he never would have normally tried with a woman he had not practiced intimately with even with the use of both hands. They didn't talk, at least not with words. There was no need. In the spinning, twirling, entwining, and leaping they communicated in ways that verbal language cannot capture. Other couples stopped dancing. They just stood back and watched, slowly forming a larger and larger open floor in which Skye and Kukri could freely sing their kinesthetic duet. Skye lost track of how long they danced. He thought the song had changed a few times, but there was nothing real in his mind except his wondrous partner.

How long didn't matter to him though, what mattered was that as one they reached a crescendo of movement and stopped, clutching one another in a panting embrace. After a few moments of applause from those around Kukri pulled back her face from where it was buried in his chest against his sling and gazed up into his eyes. The soft brown pools had shed tears that now dripped down her face. She reached up, gripped the hair at the nape of his neck, pulled his head down, stole a sudden sweet kiss, and ran away.

Kukri did not walk away, she did not just briskly leave the dance floor, she ran as if there was some kind of creature chasing her and she dared not look back lest it catch her. Needless to say, Skye was confused. Just a moment ago they had been moving as one. He had been certain that in those moments had known her better than he had ever known anyone in his life. At this moment, he didn't have any clue whatsoever as to what had just happened. Maybe men really were as stupid as they were made out to be, or maybe women were just crazy, but Skye felt he had as much chance of understanding this most recent event of his life as he had of defeating an entire nest of silver scale drakes alone and unarmed.

Couples filled the dance floor back in, and a few men gave Skye hearty pats on the back as he stood there dumbfounded. In a daze he looked for a familiar face, someone to cement him in what was real. Up on a balcony he saw his sister Evangeline conversing with a small crowd of women, and despite her earlier protestations he did notice a champagne flute in her hand. Oh well, she had more than earned a drink tonight. Quite frankly, if she wanted to start a scandal with someone else’s manpet, she had earned that too as far as Skye was concerned. Right now he wasn't sure whether that would be a bad thing. It might even distract his attention from the girl who had addled his brain. His sister’s drunken indiscretions were at least a problem he could understand.

He trod up the stairs, hardly looking where he was going, politely bowing and excusing himself automatically as he moved through the crowd. Soon he had reached his sisters perch, her back now to the railing she leaned against as she regaled those around her with some story or another Skye wasn't certain he would recognize even if he paid attention, although his name was occasionally mentioned in it. When she reached the end and looked around to see how many had properly appreciated her witty retelling she saw Skye and exclaimed with delight, "Here is my blessed baby brother now! You did wonderfully as ever down there. As I was just telling these Ladies, you are blessed kinesthetically to a point of being a credit to your gender. With the softness of mind and harshness of temperament God cursed your kind with for the original sin of the slaying Abel, she was merciful enough to give you something to make you all still worthy of the spark of life. This boy is certainly worth keeping around Ladies. Remember also, a man dancing exquisitely doesn't just indicate he will do well in the arena, it also indicates skills in other more private venues." She winked at her audience and nodded to emphasize the little insinuation she had made.

It seemed no one thought the display after the dancing stopped worthy of comment. Maybe they couldn't see what had happened from this angle. Maybe with the exertion of dancing he had imagined it. Skye remembered the soft insistent press of her lips against his. He couldn't have imagined that, could he? Either way, Evangeline quickly moved into introducing the gathered women to Skye. Most of them were representatives of some small local stable or another. One was an individual who wanted to purchase a man with a fighting pedigree for her own personal use. Three were investors who were there to make sure the stables they were backing made good decisions. Skye wondered if any of them were among the investors for the Grigori stable. Then there were the representatives from two competing intercontenintal mega stables; Horde and Legion. 

Both mega stables had facilities in most major cities around Ishtar. Their gladiators won few major titles, their business philosophies tended towards the idea that maximum profit could be made by buying as many cheap gladiators as they could and planning for mediocre results. Once in a while they would try buying a highly appraised fighter in the hopes of building renown for the entire stable, but not often.  Some said that when they bid on more prestigious gladiators it was just to drive prices up for the other stables so the little ones could afford to bid on fewer of the other men. Even if a mega stable accidentally purchased an expensive one, it didn't cut that far into their budget; and if the guy did well, they still came out ahead.

Mega stables were not buyers he wanted interested in him. Mega stables were where low class gladiators spent their lives and has-beens went from the day they were forgotten until the day they died. The best case scenario when bought by a mega stable is to be resold to an individual as a private manpet. That wasn't a bad life, but it wasn't what he had in mind. There was no good way to "accidentally" alienate the mega stable representatives without possibly driving off the other buyers and investors gathered around, though. The other stables represented might be rather good. As far as the one stable he had allowed his hopes to rise about; one daughter seemed indifferent to him and the other seemed neurotic. Kukri was beautiful, graceful, sensuous, brilliant, and possibly his soul mate if such a thing existed; but seemed most definitely neurotic. Hopefully the mega stable representatives were just enjoying his sister’s stories and had no interest in bidding on him. The gleam in their eyes when they looked at him; however, gave him definite doubts that they were there for his sister’s company, and made him quite aware of the alcohol Evangeline was now on her second glass of since he arrived on the balcony. "How many glasses did she have before I returned?" He wondered to his own dark thoughts.

Too many of his paranoid fantasies from before the ball were coming to life. He had made a fool of himself on the dance floor whether anyone else had noticed or not. His sister was well on her way to sauced. The mega stable buzzards, while not obese, were definitely formidable women, and they were circling. Soon his cosmetics would be tasted and from there his life would end. One of the matriarchs was responding to Evangeline's comments about how much value is added by his certificate of virginity with a "joke" about how lucky it was that there was so little time for him to lose it "accidentally" before the auction. How did that provide a segue into the "face diaper incident" story? "That's the predestined path that my life needs to follow in order to ensure my total destruction," He thought, "That's how."

A Warrior Must Dance: Age of Ishtar part 5

Even having just restarted his breathing exercises as he had approached, the sight of these three goddesses took his breath away. Luckily, fourteen years at a charm school had ingrained in his body a certain degree of autonomy when it came to formal responses. He at least did not feel his face betray him, and his bow came of its own accord; smooth and effortless.

After his own bow, Semias entered into his autonomous recitation, technically flawless in its formality, yet somehow with more than a note comfortable of earthiness, "Monsieur Dumas, may I introduce Milady Estelle Montoya, daughter of Madrid Montoya, Matron of Grigori stable. To her left is Milady's firstborn daughter Kris Montoya, and to her right is her youngest daughter Kukri Montoya. Miladies, may I present Skye Dumas, son of Victoria Dumas, graduate of Monsieur Van Dam Charm School, rookie gladiator, obtainable."

The stable matron was a woman still in her prime. About two decades short of middle aged, she appeared to be merely a buxom seventy years old, with the hints of laugh lines just beginning to set in, and not a hint of grey touching her long obsidian hair. Skye had assumed that since she had chosen Semias as her husband she would be well past her first century like him, but no, it seemed that she just preferred more experienced men. Or perhaps it was his long silver hair. Her daughters couldn't be much older than Skye, if not a bit younger. All three women appeared athletic, they had a poise that spoke less of being drilled to stand up straight, and more of good posture born of vigorous activity and learning their bodies well. Their attire, while elegant and appropriate to the formal setting from the perspective of certain cultures, was definitely designed with form fittingness and ease of movement in mind. Each wore a pistol slung at her hip, and they did not appear to be costume pieces worn for show.

Skye knew that in some places women wore firearms at all times, and in many others they were considered an integral part of a woman’s formal dress. He knew his sisters and mother all had at least a few firearms each, and he had seen his mother’s antique plasma rifles in their locked case over the mantle, but he had never actually seen them worn in person before. There were none in his school; the schoolmistresses were concerned that with all those curious boys around one might get his hands on one. Even if the boy didn't accidentally hurt someone, he would have broken planetary law by even picking one up (not to mention the legal troubles for the owner of the gun if it was determined that him getting it had been the result of negligence). Even if the judge was lenient in their ruling, he would still be forever marked as a registered vicious offender, just as if he had actually assaulted a woman. He would not be allowed near children or disabled persons, he would not be allowed in any government building, he would have to have the operation of his LASH chip tested once a month instead of the standard once a year, his appraisal price would fall through the floor, even in the arena he wouldn't be allowed any weapons that could be thrown, he would be sterilized, he wouldn't be allowed to step foot on any interplanetary vessel that didn't have armed guards, and the list of restrictions and repercussions goes on and on. If a weapon even accidentally flew out of your hand in the arena, if someone said you threw it; that became a serious allegation. A confirmed thrown sword was considered a projectile and could earn you a vicious offender registration.

Understandably, he knew little about guns and was more than a little bit nervous about them. These three women stood with their lithe but curvaceous forms concealed only by their dark skintight attire with instruments of death-from-afar perched on their jutting hips. Skye was intimidated, but he switched to a quieter breathing technique than prana and met the depthless brown eyes of the stable matron with his own cool blue gaze before bowing again, this time to each of them in the order they had been introduced. Each looked back into his gaze with the same soft, unknowable eyes. "I'm pleased to become acquainted with each of you, and hope that I can bring you pleasure with my presence, for to be warmed by the radiance of your smiles is more than I could dare hope to ask."

The two sisters gave one another a quick glance with a small wry grin as their mother responded smiling, "If you continue with that flattery I'm certain that smiles will be given whether you ask for them or not." The light drawl of her accent was soothing and reassuring, "We are pleased to meet you as well, and I would ask that you escort my daughters to the dance floor as it would be just silly for them to dance with one another when so fine a specimen as yourself stands unpartnered. As you are injured, I wouldn't risk overtaxin' you by asking that you dance with both at once though. If you could escort Kris, my eldest, first; I would be much obliged."

With a half bow, Skye extended his right arm out to Kris saying, "I would be delighted if your wishes matched with your mothers to grace me with your presence on the floor."

She nodded with a slight blush, and ever so lightly offered her hand into his, "If she hadn't, I don't think I could have resisted asking myself."

In all the world of Ishtar, there was only one place where men still led women, and that was on the dance floor. In the home, the woman was the head of the household if there even was a man. Government and law enforcement officials were all women. Any profession that carried with it respect, honor, or prestige outside of the arena was solely the female domain. Even in the arena women called the shots. They decided the rules, the penalties, the rewards, who fought who, and everything else. On the dance floor alone men lead women. Well, that is unless you believe those men who say that many women allow or even prefer a man to take charge in the bedroom. He thought that if those stories were true there would have been some explicit mention of it in his marital arts classes.

On to the dance floor he led her, still consciously controlling his breathing. He had danced with women before. Most of the teachers at his school were, of course, female, and they had occasional mixers with one or another of the cities prominent girls’ schools. He had never, however, danced with a woman of such grace and beauty. He had definitely never danced with a woman who moved with the deadliness this woman exuded. Her hand was light in his, like a bird that had alighted for a moment but would fly at any wrong move. Her hand was a bird that if it were to become displeased was within reach of a weapon that could end him in a moment. He didn't actually think she would just shoot him on the dance floor, but with his lifelong training to keep track of threats in the arena, the presence of such a weapon on the hip of the woman he was escorting could not leave his mind.

They reached an open place on the dance floor and he turned to face her. Skye gently, yet firmly, pulled Kris against himself, his right arm around the small of her back. Effectively leading in a dance requires the ability to communicate one’s intentions entirely through touch. That cannot be done with one hand unless the partner is pulled against the leads own body so that he can communicate where they are going. Skye looked into her eyes and tried not to become lost in them, not right now. He must keep his head. She didn’t appear surprised at him beginning with such an intimate stance with a partner he has just been introduced to. Good, just because she was trained in dance and combat does not necessarily mean she is automatically knowledgeable about dancing with a man who has been injured in combat. Her hands came up to rest on his shoulders and they began to move.

Skye started simply, stepping in a box, learning the feel of her and her subtle rhythms. A man can lead a hundred different girls through the same dance to the same song, but the feel could be entirely different with each and every one. How fluid or rigid, how quickly they reacted, natural stride length, how light or heavy on their feet, height, how much momentum they had, degree of trust in their partner, how much they would fight for the lead, what beats within a song they were likely to see as the primary beat, not to mention every tick, habit, or other idiosyncrasy each girl was likely to have. If one added in all of the variables to more advanced maneuvers; strength, the girls weight, what points she balanced at, how much she tried to self-balance in the air as opposed to letting her partner control the balance, rigidity in the air, gripability of all graspable points, jumping power, amount of fear of falling, you could spend your entire life searching and never find any two girls who felt the same to dance with.

She moved easily and quickly to his touch. He added rotation, and then more complexity. She responded smoothly and effortlessly to the slightest change in pressure of his touch. He slowly allowed himself to fall into her eyes, losing himself to her gaze and the dance.

"Do you hunt often?" Kris asked, a thoughtful expression flitting across her face.

"No, I've only fought other men before. I've wondered though, what it would be like to do battle with an opponent who has more than two legs." He answered after a slight pause that did not touch his movement. "Do you?"

"My home region, Terra del Sol, is a paradise for hunters from all over this world. Most of the land that’s livable, and much of it that isn't, is huntin’ preserves of one type or another. I haven't been huntin’ since we moved here to Gascon. It is a beautiful city here, don't get me wrong, but the local wildlife has me less than enthused. The most dangerous animal I've heard of is the occasional stray dog, not exactly my idea of excitement. I was just imaginin' I would enjoy seeing you fight a silver scale drake."

"That does sound like an interesting adventure. I hope I can fulfill that and any other fantasies you might have." A sly grin snuck onto his face as he watched a smile find its way to her lips.

"You might want to beware of makin’ such an open ended offer to women you don't know. It can get you into hot water quick." She warned coyly as he adjusted their path to avoid a drunken couple who were careening around the dance floor.

"I'll try to keep that in mind, but it is hard not to want to do whatever it would take to please you." They narrowly avoided the couple who instead collided with a matronly pair of women who had not been paying as much attention to their surroundings.

"There's a difference though between doing what you think a woman wants, and makin’ a woman happy by doing something you have a passion for. Not saying you should disobey your lady, or not do something she wants. All I'm sayin’ is that you might be able to make a woman happier being the best version of yourself than by being a cheap copy of what she says she wants."

This conversation had taken a much more philosophical turn than he had thought it would go. He didn't really have a charming pat answer, so he responded honestly. "What if she doesn't like me then?" Cracks of vulnerability showed through the exterior of bravado and icy confidence he had been taught to display.

"Then she knows you aren't what she wants and can pass you on to someone who will ‘preciate you for who you are. Also, it helps her find someone who fits better what she's looking for. If a fighter has a rapier but wants a broadsword, they can pretend it's a broadsword all they want. They can call it a broadsword, care for it like a broadsword, and wield it like a broadsword. It's still a rapier. Swung like a broadsword it won't cut well, and soon it'll break. That isn't good for the fighter, and it isn't good for the sword. It's much better for everyone involved if they just sell the rapier, get the broadsword they really want, and let someone who actually wants the rapier have it."

"I've never heard it put that way. It actually makes a good deal of sense. I'd hate to think I was a waste of time and money for a woman who didn't really want me, and quite frankly I would much rather be the property of someone who appreciates who I am." He caught himself, "I apologize if I offend by speaking my thoughts. I just realized you had not asked for them."

"You're right, I didn't ask for them," Her face stern for a moment before breaking back into that alluring coy smile of hers, "but I wanted to hear them. Now, after this little learnin’ experience, what do you think of huntin’ a silver scale drake?"

"I have no idea what one is, nor the first thing about how to hunt one." His confidence was back, but it was no longer the canned confidence of training to look that way. It was the confidence he felt in the arena; the confidence of putting himself on the line with all he had. It was the confidence, not of knowing that he would win, but of knowing that whether he won or lost he would fight well and thereby earn his own honor. "Maybe it would be enjoyable, maybe I would die horribly doing it, but if told to I would go. However, I really have never put much thought towards hunting and could probably benefit from much training regarding it before being put to such a task."

"Thank you for your honesty," Kris's coy smile had grown wider with each sentence of his response into an outright grin, "Your bravery is to be commended, even though a single man against a silver scale would be as good as dead. You would need more than just good trainin’, you would need a whole team, and still it would be risky. Honesty is something that we value highly in our family, and the worlds would be much better I think if more people gave it the proper weight.”

"If I may ask, have I impressed you as little as I believe?"

"I doubt it, but I do believe I have monopolized you on the dance floor quite long enough. My sister does still have a reservation for a dance with you."

Skye reluctantly broke away to bow to her. "It would not do to keep her waiting then." Skye was mentally kicking himself; he had surely ruined any chance he had of getting this stable's bid at the auction. "Let us return to your family."

"I should probably tell you something first though. While I have always preferred the sweepin’ style of the broadsword, my sister Kukri has always been an almost cultish fan of the rapier."

The Ball: Age of Ishtar Part 4

As they pulled up to the venue, Skye was uncertain whether he was hoping more in vain that there would be no alcohol at the ball, or that as soon as they walked in large amounts of it would be poured down his throat so that he could enter an uncaring stupor for what was undoubtedly about to unfold. He drew himself up into a dancer’s posture, plastered a charming smile on his face, took his sisters arm, and through the door they walked. Breathe in, breathe out, in, and out. It’s just another battle; There’s nothing worse to lose than my life. Skye lied to himself. Truthfully; there are many fates worse than death, and quite a few of them were well within the power of the women in this hall to bestow upon him. Truth is not what he needed right now though; reassurance and confidence were what he needed, and those seldom have much to do with truth.

His center and self-control were returning as their names were announced. They glided down the stairs majestically. He was a young and beautiful god of war with the deadly grace of a slithering viper, but the calm inevitability of glacial ice. It didn't matter if confidence was born of truth or falsehood. It was there, and it could stop the stars. Evangeline was there at his side with her confidence that never failed. She may seem self-absorbed and oblivious to others, but that was born of a self-possession that most could only dream of. She could ramble, and she could prattle, but when she orated you listened, and you would be moved. She wasn't just any lobbyist; she was a political juggernaut. Those who opposed her would argue to no avail. They conceded one point, then another, and then before they knew it they had surrendered their entire position and she had taken them beyond even her initial stance into something entirely new they would not even have acknowledged with a retort before. Now, it just made sense though, and they had no idea how it had happened. This world, this age, was hers. Here and now she was a titan, and she had descended from on high to part the sea before him.

She started working the room like a whirlwind, the few world-stage power players present already knew her. Soon everyone of note knew who she was, who mother was, who he was, and that he was the big ticket item of the upcoming auction. She was offered drinks, but with a dazzling smile she declined saying, "I would love to have a drink with you sometime. Tonight; though, beautiful as it is, is about business. Sadly, I don't drink when discussing business." The one who had offered would then look almost sheepish about the glasses in their own hands, as if they had been the ones outside of the social protocol by offering. Skye wondered how he could ever have doubted her.

It can be disorienting to observe someone you know from watching their gangly first steps into adulthood, an unsure teenager struggling under the shadows of their parents, and finally see them as adults in the full glory of their element. These people did not know her faults. They didn't remember her crying after she fell from a height, or after her first failed attempts at love. They did not know her as he did. It was open to debate which perspective saw more of the real her.

After Evangeline felt Skye had been introduced to most everyone of consequence, he was dismissed to go ply his charms as best he could on the dance floor. On his way there he encountered a smiling, familiar face: Semias Montoya, the man who had defeated him yesterday. "How's your arm and head?" The older man inquired good naturedly with a nod.

"Oh, I'm fairing well," Skye replied almost giddy with how well the night was going, "If that was the worst I ever get in the arena, it will mean my career has been much shorter and uneventful than I'd like it to be. How are you fairing?"

"Oh, I'm doing great. You seem to have one quite amazing sister. I wish I had someone half as convincing to talk for me first time I went to auction."

"I have six"

"What?"

"I have six amazing sisters; if the stories I hear of the other five are anywhere near as true as what I had heard of this one." Skye clarified with pride.

"Then I have to congratulate you on having two of the finest blessings a man can have; good family, and good women in his life."

"Hopefully; wherever I go next, I'll continue to see them."

"That's a good hope to have, but it shows wisdom that you know the difference between what to plan on and what to hope for."

Skye had to think a short while before responding, "I just have a pattern of my plans not working quite as I'd set out. So, I try to look for what I'd like to happen, but allow for whatever else could come to be."

"Seems to work out rather well for you so far. It's not everyone who could have a full dosed berserker on them as long as you did and walk away with fight still in 'em."

"Excuse me? Berserker?" Berserker was the name of a dangerous performance enhancing, rage inducing drug given primarily as a form of bloody execution. A full dose multiplied your strength, made it so you were unphased by any pain, and turned your entire world to murderous rage. It was also the name of someone dosed with it. Usually it was given to a group of inmates sentenced to death before they were sent into the arena together. They tore each other apart. Even if one of the condemned somehow made it through the battle in one piece, the drug itself would knock them into cardiac arrest before it left their system.

"Yeah, it’s kind of hush-hush, but the guy who decided your arm was a snack injected himself with a full dose right before the battle. They're still trying to figure out how he got the syringe into his gate room. I figured you deserve to know why he was able to treat you like a rag doll. I know it would bother the kimchee out of me if I had that happen and didn't know why."

"So that's why he snapped and his heart stopped."

"Well, now at least you know what it looks like, you can see it in their eyes. If you ever see it again, go for the throat. Asphyxiation, bleeding out, or taking out the brain are the only quickish ways to take a berserker down without dismembering them."

"Thank you, I guess you saved my life even more than I'd thought."

"You’re welcome, and thank you for keeping him distracted for so long. I would have had the darndest time trying to choke him out if his attention was on me. I guess we haven't properly introduced ourselves. I am Semias Montoya, son of Elaine Argent, husband of Estelle Montoya, father of Kukri and Kris Montoya, Gladiator Captain of Grigori Stable."

"I am Skye Dumas, son of Victoria Dumas, graduate of Monsieur Van Dam Charm School, rookie gladiator, obtainable." After a moment’s hesitation he commented, "Your Lady took you as your husband, bore two daughters from you, and made you captain of her stable. She must be quite taken with you."

"No more than I am with her," he grinned, "It's not just loyalty to Milady when I say I believe she is the most beautiful, courageous, caring, and downright wonderful creature on or off the face of any world." It had the ring of something lovingly reiterated many times over. "I could never hope for a higher honor than she gave me the day she asked me to take her name and father her children."

"I should congratulate you then. Not only did you find the two blessings you congratulated me for, but also the rarest blessing of all in finding love in the eyes of your Lady."

The old man chortled for a moment then asked, "Do you know what the Grigori are that my stable is named after?"

Skye had to think for a moment before answering, "No. It seems like a familiar name, but I can't say that I do."

"It means watcher, but what they were said to be was angels sent down to watch humankind at the dawn of time. They were so entranced by the beauty and wonder of the mortal women they watched over that they willingly chose to fall from heaven so that they could try for their love."

"Fallen angels, so they were demons?"

"No, no, no, no. They didn't rebel, they merely fell from grace. Even though God created humans in his image doesn’t mean he didn't give his other creations some degree of choice. Plus, they acted out of love; not pride, or wrath, or anything like that. They weren’t evil, but they couldn't be angels and live in heaven anymore, so they became the Grigori. They kept on watching over humankind, teaching us, guiding us, protecting us.  At least that's how the story goes."

"Huh. I never heard that story before."

"Teaches a good lesson though. These angels, they knew the perfection of heaven. They still thought it was worth giving that up for the love of a good woman. I don't know if they were right or wrong with what they chose. If they were even close in thinking love of a woman was worth giving up heaven for though, then there sure as hell isn't anything in this life not worth doing for it."

"I'll try to keep that in mind."

"Your sister’s speeches though are being kind of a mixed blessing for us, though."  Semias said as they started meandering closer to the dance floor.

"Why's that?"

"Well, Milady is rather picky about what gladiators she wants to buy. After yesterday, the only one of the rookies that she felt was worth looking into was you. I may or may not have helped bring that opinion about, but it isn't a great idea for me to overestimate my influence on Milady." Semias ran his fingers through his hair, seemingly at some exasperating memory, before continuing, "We began looking up your appraisal, and we're a small stable, so she was uncertain whether our investors would be willing to front the amount of credits you're likely to go for. Your sister has certainly had an inflating effect on your final price. Instead of Milady having to talk you up to her investors though, they've started badgering her about how if she doesn't buy you, they'll lose all faith in her. Hopefully they're willing to actually booster up the credits you'll cost. Otherwise they'll blame milady for themselves being stingy. You did not just hear me say that, by the way."

Skye nodded. He was little bit stunned by Semias's frankness, but continued following the scarred arena veteran around the edge of the dance floor. At seeing the young man’s assent the older fighter continued, "No matter which stable you end up in, there will be a great deal of pressure from some woman or group of women for you to give an immediate return on the large sum they just paid for you. Some would be more understanding than others that a high price tag doesn't make you any less human. Milady is more understanding than most. She asks for our best, but knows she can't ask for more than we can do. Her investors aren’t all so even headed, but she does a good job of keeping their heads planetside."

Semias stopped and looked Skye straight in the eye as he explained, "Now I'm telling you all this so you know where we're coming from. Milady Estelle is looking to take a big risk on you, that if it doesn't pan out, her investors will not have to try hard to convince themselves it's her fault. I think she's going towards the right decision. We have only seen you in one fight, though. A good deal of it wasn't exactly normal run of things; and most problematically, impressive or not that you survived, you didn't exactly win. Judging by the size of your eyes right now I can see you probably would understand her wanting more reassurance of your strength as an investment. I like the way you are keeping the stress out of your posture by the way. I have been sent over to find you and request a dance with each of my daughters so they can see what they think of you and report back to their mother."

Semias started leading him again, this time with more direction, "Both of them have grown up around the arena, surrounded by gladiators of no small skill. They have been instructed first in dance and combat, and have now begun schooling in business as well as learning how to instruct both dance and combat. One or both of them will inherit the stable someday, and they have both inherited their mother’s passion for the business. Now, while I would normally pat you on the back for showing you get the real dangers of our job, (a pretty girl with a smile is way more dangerous to us than the wildest man with a sword) you need to woo now, and eyes popping out of your head rarely help that... Good; yes, your prana technique is good and you found your center quickly. There they are. I have spoken highly of you based on seeing not much; please don't embarrass yourself or me.”

Semias then stopped and bowed before the three most beautiful women Skye had ever seen.

Good Morning Sunshine: Age of Ishtar Part 3

Showering and dressing oneself with an injured shoulder presents far more challenges than one would think of initially. Add in an injured forearm, extensive bruising of the other arm, and bruising of the shins and feet, and you will be imagining the difficulty of Skye getting ready in the hour allotted him between when the sedative wore off and when his sister Evangeline was supposed to arrive. His makeup was not up to his usual standards, but for a one handed rush job it was rather good. His left eye did sting from being accidentally poked with both a mascara brush and an eyeliner pencil though. He hoped there was time for a full body wax in his schedule before tonight. While he had gotten his face, shaving his legs and chest in his current state would be a nightmare, and there was just no way to shave his arms. A prickly arm at a ball would just be a disaster.

He was glad to see that the treatments to minimize the color of his bruises had worked well enough. Nothing a little concealer from his stylist before the ball couldn't fix. They still hurt and made his movements a bit stiff, but he needed to be able to show as much unblemished skin as possible tonight, especially if the view was going to be obstructed by some ghastly sling on his arm. After all the work he had put into developing his pectorals they would be partially hidden, his abdominals and back would just have to pick up the slack.

Evangeline arrived with not one, but two of her assistants in tow. "Oh, my sweet, little baby brother! What have they done to you in that arena? Are you all right? If I could get my hands on that Neanderthal that did that to you! That beast really needs to be put down I say. I doubt it's really his fault though, the poor thing... just negligent poor training. Now he's the one who needs to be put down for incurable viciousness. There ought to be stricter laws on who can own men, you know? Firm love and kindness is the key to good training of a manpet. That’s what we did for you, and look what an adorable gentleman you turned out to be! Some of these women just about let their men run wild. They starve them for attention and discipline, and then look what happens! When I bought my Clarence I took a whole months’ vacation to make sure he acclimated properly to his change in environment and be certain he had bonded adequately before I left him at home alone. That month was the best investment of time I have ever spent. Oh, and for ensuring loyalty, the extra cost of one who still has their certificate of virginity is worth every credit. Just a little bit of attention and they will follow you into a black hole and back out. I need to make sure to bring it up at every opportunity tonight that you still have your certificate. You and Clarence do play so nicely together. I do hope that your new Lady is amicable to the two of you still having play dates, and you being able to attend family functions once in a while. You get along well with all the families manpets, and it would be a shame to waste that good socialization."

Evangeline's ramblings were like the Word of God her name meant as far as Skye was concerned. You listen, you let it flow over and through you, you obey, and you do not interrupt. Unless she stops for an answer the question was rhetorical. She does not stop for answers from men. With other women she was a brilliant conversationalist. Men, she believed, should embody the virtue of silence unless their voice is asked for.

Their first stop of the morning was to the tailor to have his outfit for tonight adjusted to suit his injuries and Evangeline’s tastes. She and Evangeline decided that since his chest would be obscured at best, they needed to focus on his other attributes. It was decided that his ensemble for the evening would be skin tight black leather briefs with a built in studded sash over the left shoulder that would have a matching sling. For accessories, he would have a studded black hide bracer on his right forearm and matching shin guards. It was classic gladiatorial eveningwear, no real risks taken. Classic, however, meant that his garment would serve as a frame for his body, not a distraction from what they would be bidding on.

After the hours spent figuring that out, and having the necessary alterations made, (Skintight leather is rather unforgiving if you want it to look just right, be able to move in it, and not loose circulation to any marketable parts.) Evangeline and Skye had a light lunch. His sister spent the time traveling between locations, as well as between bites while they ate, having her assistants look up all they could find on the potential buyers and any marketable traits that she might forget to bring up while socializing. She was especially pleased to hear that he had gotten exceptional marks in his marital arts classes, (Not to be confused with martial arts, which he also excelled at) as this would be a great segue to go from discussion of his exceptional training at a prestigious charm school to the benefits of a man with his prior mentioned certificate intact.

Even if he was purchased by a stable and not an individual, such things were still of great import. Most stables made a substantial secondary income by offering many of their men as courtesans, and there were few stable owners and staff who did not sample the attentions of their own gladiators. You have to keep morale up, and if everyone can enjoy it, all the better. As Evangeline said, "Firm love and kindness is the key to good training of a manpet." Some stables were more brothel than gladiatorial team, and even had men in their ranks that had never fought a single time. Stables were where women who did not want, could not afford, or were blood related to their own manpet went for masculine company. Women with their own pets even came to the stables in search of variety.

Also, some women wanted to try a man before they bought him. Not just physically, they wanted to see how he behaves in various situations; take him out to social events, see if he played well with their friends’ pets, check if he could fulfill their needs, and watch how he adapted to her lifestyle. Many of the better schools have strict policies against rental or trial periods. Most stables; however, were in the business of renting out their men for any reasonable purpose, and if a woman offered a reasonable price would be more than willing to turn a profit. Being bought from the stable didn't mean his career would have to end, either. Ishtar’s Planetary Government had laws against the cruel practice of stopping a man from participating in the games. If an elderly, retired, serving boy, invalid, who had never been trained a day in his life, and who's Lady was opposed to any form of violence decided he wanted to fight; he would be placed in the first battle that allowed for one of his combat appraisal. It would most likely be unpaid, and at the hour before dawn, but no one could legally stop him from going onto those sands. That is the right of every man on Ishtar.

It was also important that a stable gladiator be capable of mingling in a broad variety of social settings. First, he would be expected to go to them to make appearances and thus increase exposure for his dual careers as a gladiator and a courtesan. Second, there was no telling what type of events a lady who had rented him to accessorize her arm might take him to. Balls, galas, clandestine gatherings, high class restaurants, rustic local events, star cruises, exotic safaris, concerts, shows, or just a lonely night; it was all possible as long as the stable owner agreed. Sometimes, instead of an individual renting a gladiator, a group or event would rent anywhere from one man to an entire stable at once. The contract for such a thing could be for any number of tasks, but standard would be for them to accompany and provide for the needs of any of those they were hired to attend to.

Niche specialties also could be quite a selling point. For example, a pair of men whose affection was for one another could go for quite a high price. The ladies who liked watching that were always ravenous for more. Unusual skin, hair, or eyes could knock up the price some, but by less than the cost of attaining that trait through surgery or cosmetics. Outside of the skills already mentioned, the only area Skye had particularly excelled in at school was dance. He wasn't sure which he liked better, fighting or dancing. Really, the two were closely related when it came to the skills involved. A ball, of course, is a reasonably good place to showcase that talent, but limited in that most of the dances at a ball are rather structured and moderately simple. There would be times however, when free dancing would be accepted and he would need to capitalize on these. Sadly, any improvised dancing he did would have to be solo as he had no partner. Also, it would all have to be done with one arm.

The car pulled up to Studio Jorje, Skye and Evangeline got out with his new outfit and her gown, and her assistants drove off to do whatever it is that they do. They walked in and the transformation began. Skye had only once been to this stylist before, and that was a simple hair and makeup for the battle yesterday. He had always before gone to one of the school stylists they kept on staff whenever he needed to be prepared for a special event. Jorje first helped him remove every stitch, even the sling, so he could see what needed to be done. First, he was steam showered and dried.  Then the waxing came next.  He hadn't had any type of permanent hair removal done in case his new Lady thought he should grow out any given area of hair. Jorje was very thorough, saying, "Just because clothing is supposed to cover it doesn't mean it will the entire evening, best to be safe; just in case." Skye wasn't sure which strip of hair removed was the most painful, but he had several nominees in mind for the award. This was being a much more complete makeover than yesterday. Yesterday had been to look good from a distance. This was to look good from up close; and based on Jorje’s comments and attention to detail, Skye was no longer certain there was any portion of his anatomy that would be safe from minuscule examination by any of the five senses.

He was buffed. The numbers that were dyed into his skin were bleached and scrubbed away. He was polished. He was deodorized and fragranced in areas he had not been aware could be deodorized. Then the makeup began. It wasn't just on his face.  Every muscle was highlighted, low-lighted, and shadowed. As if worried Skye was not nervous enough about tonight, Jorje informed Skye of the subtle flavors each of the cosmetics would lend to his body, "Just in case."

What kind of a ball is this going to be?" Skye wondered to himself, What are they going to do to me? Surely, with how she was going on about how important my certificate is, Evangeline isn't going to let any prospective buyers have their way with me before the auction? Then Skye remembered that there are loopholes to keeping one’s certificate. Even if the certificate’s validity is brought into question, an investigation into whether one should be revoked can be stretched out under political pressure. Evangeline also does not hold alcohol well. With her being ten years Skye’s senior he had had plenty of opportunities to notice at family holidays that when imbibing she became noticeably less than prudent.

If he remembered correctly, liberties taken with their sister Carmen's manpet, Jimmy, one New Years Eve brought about the purchase of Clarence due to Carmen's recommendation that, "If you need to do that every damn time you get tipsy, you can damn well get your own!" If Evangeline ended up drinking, not only would his virtue be unguarded, but with Clarence absent, his sister was quite likely to bring under duress the virtue of at least one of the other attendees. Hopefully, it would be one who wouldn't mind. While he was at it, he hoped her indiscretions wouldn't start a feud. Some women were rather territorial about their manpets.

By the time Jorje started working on Skye's hair, terror had taken a nasty grip on his heart. This was going to be a disaster. They were going to go there. He was going to make a fool of himself on the dance floor, and while he is doing so his sister was going to go get sauced and start telling stories about the "face diaper incident", that is if she doesn't come up with something worse. Then, while she is distracted, some obese stable matriarch was going to drag him off to some dark corner and taste test his cosmetics, after which she will tell him she was just browsing and had no intention of even bidding on anyone. As a review she would announce to everyone present she was thoroughly unimpressed, but that although his performance qualified only technically, his certificate should be considered voided anyways. Then to top off the evening, Evangeline would find the favorite manpet of the most influential person present and proceed to enthusiastically ravish him in the middle of the dance floor. That was this evening’s forecast. Then he started thinking of scenarios that were somehow worse.

Waking Up: Age of Ishtar Part 2

That evening Skye woke up in a hospital bed. His head felt groggy, but his arm was completely numb and in a sling to immobilize the swollen shoulder. He reached over to the telescreen by his bed and logged in. First there were a few messages from friends he had left behind at school, telling him they thought he did great from what they had seen in recordings of his fight. One of his mother's assistants had sent him his new schedule. It had been adjusted according to the doctor's recommendations. He would read that later.

The assistant had actually left him the decision whether to let the wound scar or not.  I suppose she really has completely lost interest in me. His mother had chosen to have a son. She had actually wanted him once upon a time. He wasn't sure whether he had done, or not done, anything to disappoint her. Perhaps she had decided a son was not what she had wanted in the first place. He remembered one time sitting on his mother's lap, his sisters gathered around, with her singing to them all. His mother was a busy woman though, and he was not the only person in her life.

When he was five; his mother, Victoria Dumas, had sent him away to school. His sisters stayed with their mothers. Skye's mother had two wives, Elizabeth and Margery, and each of them had carried one daughter sired by each of the two others. Six sisters, only four of them were blood related to him, but all six were his sisters. Lilly, Judith, Sara, Carmen, Evangeline, and Cleo had thought he was a wonderful pet. Of the three mothers, only his had chosen to have a son. He didn't know who his father was, how he had been chosen, or if his mother had felt anything for him. His mother and both his step mothers had all had male lovers. Sometimes they even shared them. His mother; however, had decided that she wanted a son after all of the girls had been born.

Skye knew there were women who just had sons with the intention of selling them. Some even lived entirely off of the income they made turning out boys. The serious professionals knew their own genetic profiles and bred with men whose genes were likely to produce certain traits when combined with their own genes to produce designer men. Long ago, direct genetic manipulation would have been used, but almost every major religion on Ishtar now spoke against it for one reason or another. Direct genetic manipulation was now only used to treat disease, and often not even for that. There were some who said that many traits now relatively common to humanity would not have come into being if not for this meddling. They claimed luminescent skin, most hair colors, ability to breathe water, and all sorts of other traits had come into the gene pool by direct manipulation. Maybe this was true, maybe it wasn't. The thought made Skye's skin crawl.

Skye's mother had never really wanted for money though. She was a brilliant business woman. Usually a boy who was intended to just be auctioned off would be sold at an early age either to a school or directly to the customer; to maximize profit. Perhaps she had intended him for some other purpose that he just hadn't lived up to, or the need for had fled. Sometimes boys were raised so that they could be used to unite two houses through blood without the mother having to marry anyone herself. Sometimes they were intended as gifts. Giving a man as a gift was a rather extravagant gesture. Giving a man of your own womb was incredible. If you wanted to train a man for espionage you had to start from an early age to ensure his unquestioning loyalty, and if you had him even from before birth you could ensure that he could not be poisoned against you. He had always thought his mother had wanted to keep him though.

Some women chose to have sons even when they could just purchase a pre-trained man because they wished them to be undoubtedly loyal bodyguards for one of their daughters. Others had strong positive feelings for the father and wanted a son who would take after them. Of course, there were the fringe cults from off world who made claims that man and woman were meant to be together as equals, and that children should only result from their union whatever gender the child might be. (Skye had watched a documentary about one of their societies and the bizarre lives they led. "Equals" was an interesting term for a cruel society that wouldn't even let their men fight in the arena, or know their worth by being appraised.) Then there were those women who had sons because they genuinely wanted to love them. Some ladies took it to an unhealthy degree; yes, but they said that there could never be a better manpet than one you carried in your own womb.

Whatever reason his mother first birthed him, when he turned five he was sent to the Monsieur Van Dam Charm School for Boys. That wasn't ominous in of itself. Quite a few of the other boys there were wards of individuals, be they their own mothers or someone else who had purchased them. The boys who were wards of the school itself had been purchased for particular traits the school specialized in helping blossom.

At first he had visited his family every few weeks. His sisters still doted on him, but his mother became more and more distant. He never really remembered his step mothers being anything but distant. They were never cruel to him though. They treated him more like someone who is not fond of dogs treats a terrier that their spouse brings into the home. Maybe she really had loved him, and maybe in her own way she still did, but there was no longer any place in her life for him, it seemed. He was no longer even worth having a member of her staff decide what direction should be taken with his medical care. It was his decision now, until someone else purchased him and he became their ward.

Skye looked through some more of his messages. There were a few advertisements for hair care products, cosmetics, skin dye and bleach to turn his epidermis any shade that took his fancy (Guaranteed to catch a lady’s eye!), and of course "Ten secrets you must know to make her weak in the knees!" (All ten secrets and a day planner to keep up on your workout, diet, and beauty treatments; as well as a subscription to their articles and recipes for one low monthly price!) How would he ever live without any of these products? Delete.

His sisters Cleo and Sara had each sent beaming messages about how proud they were that he had made it to the final two in his first professional battle. Evidently Evangeline would be congratulating him in person tomorrow. She had decided she would be able to be there to be his presenter at the rookie coming out ball tomorrow night. There had been some debate as to who would present him. At first it was assumed that, since Lilly lived the closest to the venue, she would. That had been a rather scary thought for Skye.

Lilly was by far the most socially conservative of his sisters, including her views on the "proper" way to train a man. It tended to include significant, and often creative, use of the LASH (Lingual Aural Synaptic Harness) chip. She believed that if our forbearers saw fit to decree that all men be implanted with a chip in their heads that made it so that hearing certain words would inflict certain amounts of pain, up to and including enough to knock them unconscious, these chips should be used for as much as possible. It wasn't like men felt real pain anyways. The idea of her finding a like-minded stable owner and convincing her to buy him was not pleasant. The times when he was growing up that she decided to take an "interest" in his behavior had been less than enjoyable in an extreme way. It had taught him significantly more tolerance for pain than many of his more pampered fellows, but it was not an experience he wished to repeat; ever.

Lilly's mother in law; however, had some kind of gala the week of the event, so she would not be able to attend. For a while it seemed that one of mother's assistants would have the duty. Evangeline; however, would not have it. She felt that for such a big event for him, someone from the family should be there. Although she would definitely not be able to get off of her work in time to be there for the fight, she was going to try her best to be there for the ball. It seemed her scheduling had been successful.

Having gone through all of his new messages he decided to look up news on the fight. The man who had won was a guy named Semias Montoya from the Grigori stable. It was some little stable that had recently moved to the City of Gascon from some small town on the other side of the planet. Semias had been the first gladiator purchased by Estelle Montoya, the owner, when the stable opened about twenty-five years back. He specialized in unarmed and light blades. The stable had only four gladiators, all older guys well past their primes, but evidently all of them had competed in one fight or another yesterday. Grigori was one of the stables that had registered as potential buyers for the ball tomorrow.  He would have to keep a lookout for the Grigori representatives. Semias seemed to be a more than alright guy, and there were advantages to being bought by a small stable that is looking to expand.

There was little said about the madman who had gnawed half way through his arm. His name had been Kayvan and he was listed as a casualty with a cause of non-injury cardiac failure. He was credited with the KOs of four who had died of their injuries in that fight. He broke one man’s neck, and the other three had cause of death listed as exsanguination. The intercontinental mega-stable that had fielded him was called Legion. They also would be potential buyers at the ball, and Skye would want to avoid them if Kayvan was an example of their gladiators. Even if men all were slathering beasts deep down, Skye doubted that kind of viciousness could have developed overnight.

This wasn't the first time he had woken up in a hospital bed after a fight, and if his career continued it wouldn't be the last. He sent response messages to his friends and sisters, looked up how the other fights had gone, and read all he could find about the stables that would be represented at the ball tomorrow. After a while though, one of the nurses noticed he was awake and gave him a timed dose of sedative so he would sleep until his schedule said for him to be up in the morning.

The First Fight: Age of Ishtar part 1

Breathing in, breathing out, in, and out. That was the first and most important lesson Sifu Jerrin had taught Skye Dumas when he was five years old and came to Monsieur Van Dam Charm School. Fourteen years of tutoring and training, and still it all came back to breathing in and out. Skye tried to wait patiently for the gate to open and the fight to begin. Waiting was always the hardest part. He had started stretching out and warming up over an hour ago, but to calm himself he performed one more slow repetition of Salutation of the Sun.

Anxiety would do nothing for him out in the arena; focus was key. In he breathed, and then out, with perfectly controlled breaths. He could hear Sifu Jerrin's voice in his head, "In combat, as in life, the only aspect you have control over is yourself. To control the situation, the control of self must be absolute." Nothing about himself, not even his breathing, can be allowed to leave his control. Breath controls the flow of energy through the body. Breath that is focused leads to a body that is focused; clumsy breathing leads to a clumsy body.

He must be focused for this fight. Skye had fought in many of this format, but not at this level. Never had he been in a professional fight before. There was little chance he would be standing at the end, but to win a 30UKOFFA (Thirty-man-Unarmed-Knock-Out-Free-For-All) his first pro match would be amazing. It would help ensure he would get into one of the better stables.

His mother had made it perfectly clear that she had no intention of starting her own stable. Her hope was that, after the first fight, she might be able to make a small profit on the cost of putting him through charm school by selling him to the highest bidder. First, that would require him to do well his first fight. Second, he will have to present himself well to the potential bidders when he is introduced to them at the ball. Then, no effort could be spared to present him well on the auction block. Who knows, perhaps he might capture the heart of a wealthy mistress who will decide to buy him outright herself. That was all further down the road. For now, he needed to focus, and breathe.

A few more minutes passed, and Skye heard the anthem of the planet Ishtar playing out in the arena. Not long now; his fight was the opening act. The anthem came to an end, his gate slid open, and sunlight poured in followed by the roar of the women in the crowd. He stepped up the ramp and stood on his mark in the meticulously raked sand outside his doorway. As the door behind him slid shut, he studied his opponents stepping out of their own doorways around the circumference of the arena. Most of them would be rookies or other relative unknowns in this fight; no one would be paying much attention to any particular one at the beginning. He could wave to the crowd if he won; for now his opponents received his attention.

The first detail that jumped out at him was that the average size of his opponents was larger than he was used to. No one of them was the biggest he had ever faced, but the average size of the men on the field was more than he was accustomed to. By a quick visual scan, only two looked smaller than Skye. Welcome to the big time. It did look like he had one of the more creative stylists of the bunch. About a quarter of his opponents had basic buzz cuts, and another quarter had shaved their heads entirely (most likely in imitation of the World Champion who had managed to remain undefeated for over three years: Oric Dis). Fortunately; his gravity defying, free flowing ebon locks wouldn't be a disadvantage as long as he could see through them. Grabbing or pulling an opponent’s hair carried one of the more severe penalties that stopped short of criminal prosecution.  Once again he heard Sifu Jerrin’s voice, "If you accidentally rupture an inner organ that is forgivable, but if you ever want to be in the good fights, do not touch the hair."

None of them would have any advantage from equipment. Unarmed meant that they walked in wearing a threadlet. It was just enough fabric to contain their manhood and nothing else. It was designed to ensure that, even if you took it off and attempted to use the thin string that held it on as a garrote to choke an opponent, it would tear and you would be penalized for corrupting the younger ladies in the stands. The uniform for the games helped ensure they were fair, and helped ensure the ladies in the stands or watching from home could ogle all the eye candy they wanted. "Give the women a good enough show," Sifu Jerrin had often said, "And you can lose every battle, but still be a star."  Not that his fight was likely to be watched by many from home. These weren’t a major games, and large free-for-alls were primarily used to warm up the live crowd and to sort the potential arena stars. Winning one could still be impressive, though.

He was shorter and of slighter build than almost all of his opponents. In a free for all battle, that was a mixed blessing. Those looking to take out obvious threats early would ignore him, but opponents looking for an easy early KO would target him. If you want to win a big free-for-all like this, endurance was everything. You want to keep yourself fresh while your opponents wear each other out. Also, the crowd is more likely to remember impressive maneuvers later in the battle, when there are fewer men conscious on the sands.

Only five had their skin dyed with a stable's symbol and colors. All the rest had the same black font as Skye, just declaring their number in the fight on their chest and back. He was number thirteen.

The bell tolled, and the time for strategizing was over. Instead of waiting for an opponent to choose him he spotted a mid-sized opponent, number five, who didn't seem able to move too fast. He was thick around the mid-section, which meant easier to hit, but harder to shock his innards. With any luck, Skye could spend the next few minutes working him down without getting worn out himself, and not attract attention from anyone else until the sands had been depopulated some. He ran over to the thick bellied man and opened with a right back fist to the face that rebounded off the man’s forearm block to swing straight into a shot to the crotch. His fist connected solidly. Then Skye's left fist shot out for a jab to the throat. There was a moment of surprise as he realized the second and third blow had both landed, resulting in his opponent already going down.

Skye had little time to decide what to next; however, as one of the shaven headed men (number twenty-six) tried rushing him from behind. Luckily; the angle of the attacker's shadow gave his approach away in time for Skye to react. He dropped into a low stance with his left foot stretched out away from his the charge, to give maximum stability, and drove his right shoulder into the surprised man’s midsection while the assailant swung wildly at where Skye’s head had just been. As momentum carried the bald pugilist ever forward, Skye shoved upwards with his shoulder, flipping the man so that he upended halfway over to plant head first into the arena sands.

Before the bald man could react to his new situation, lying face down on the ground, Skye grabbed his foot and twisted, hard. He felt more than heard the tendons and ligaments snap as the crowd's screeching roar drowned out the sound. Whether it was the ankle, the knee, or both that had been disabled didn't really matter. What mattered was that it was repairable and the man was effectively out of the fight. As ever, Sifu Jerrin’s advice rang through Skye's skull, "Giving injuries that can't be easily fixed is always to be avoided in the arena.  It can cost your Lady or stable money, and make it so you can't rely on the professional courtesy of others not doing the same to you." Really, with the state of medicine, as long as you stayed away from the brain and the heart, enough money could fix almost anything if the medic got to you in time. Scars left afterwards were a matter of taste.

Skye stepped away in a ready stance and surveyed the sands. There were five doors open with medics running out to take the critically injured out of the way to be treated. One team was coming for his first opponent; crushed windpipes tend to be high priority. The bald guy with the twisted leg would be rather low on the triage list. At least ten were out of the fight, and the other combatants were occupied with one another. He scanned for a favorable target.

In a free-for-all he couldn't just consider the one he was striking, because their opponent was also his opponent. The enemy of your enemy is also your enemy in a free-for-all. If you take someone out from behind, in all likelihood their current opponent will try to take you down as your only thank you. The best case scenario is to strike someone who is in the middle of finishing their opponent off. Failing that, the next best scenario is to find someone who is winning easily and hit them from behind, but just enough so that their current opponent has a chance; not hard enough to take them out, and not enough to be worth losing focus on their current target over. Let them fight each other; you just make sure that when they are done and one comes for you, they are as tired and bruised as possible.

Skye spotted a pair who had made the mistake of entering a grapple. Wrestling is all well and good if there are only two fighters on the field, otherwise it’s suicide. It leaves all parties involved vulnerable, and even if you disable the one you are grappling; disengaging, standing back up, and even pushing your unconscious foe off of you can all cost precious seconds that you would not be able to afford. He ran up and kicked the lower one of the downed pair in the soft part of the side with the ball of his right foot, then jumped into the air and slammed his left heel down on to the right side of the higher grapplers back, which of course transferred a not small part of the impact to the lower man. As often happens when an attack involves jumping, Skye was not able to keep his footing and fell, but he rolled with the fall back onto his feet. He was out of the way just in time, because two more saw the error of the wrestlers, and both of them had the colors of minor stables on their skins. They each kicked the two fools on the ground a couple of times, to ensure that they were out of the fight, before joining in melee with one another.

So far, Skye had been lucky, and the battle was going much faster than he had anticipated. Over half of the fighters were either unconscious, writhing on the ground, or somewhere in between. Two of those who had fallen were men from the stables. Somehow, he had not taken a single hit, and hadn't really had to exert himself either. Now, though, was where it would become less about luck and started getting tricky. While most of the men were injured at that time, those who were likely to go down easy were already down. The initial rush was over, most of the guys left would be thinking before they advanced. Most would be defensive now that they had lasted this long. Most would be thinking they have a real chance to win this if they played it smart.

The man dyed with red and black jagged swirls, who was charging straight at Skye, evidently did not think this way. He was at least in close competition for being the largest on the sands in this battle. Maybe he didn't have much endurance and wanted the battle over with as quickly as possible. Maybe he was in some sort of blind battle rage. Maybe he was big but not too bright. Whatever the reason, blood and spittle slathered from his bared teeth as, at the end of his sprint, he leaped at Skye with his rippling arms outstretched.

Skye pivoted and ducked to the side, jabbing at the flying madman while evading his grasping hands. The crazed male landed in a crouch and immediately turned to lunge. Skye blocked for a hit, but the crimson and black swirled monstrosity wasn't trying for a hit, he was grabbing for his arms. He yanked Skye over to him, face to face. Skye saw the dozen burst blood vessels in his assailant’s eyes, turning the whites of his eyes more red than the color they are called after. He looked into those eyes and saw death. This man was not trying to disable. He was not trying to knock out. He was out for blood and to kill. The bloody teeth were bared again and he bit for Skies throat. Skye's free arm came up and he slammed it into the crazed man’s maw. Teeth sunk into his flesh, and searing pain shot through his arm, but the teeth could have been in his throat. The bloody teeth were not from being punched in the mouth, it was blood from those the man had already faced.

Men died in the arena, especially in the battles with weapons. The goal was almost always to disable, but even in unarmed matches, death sometimes happened. Fights to the death were rare, though. Unsanctioned death was always investigated and penalized; sometimes charges would even be raised depending on the investigation. Everyone knew that men were murderous beasts at heart, which was why they could not legally carry projectile or energy weapons on Ishtar. That was why they no longer had governmental privileges. That was why they were each required to have a Lady to oversee them, or become wards of the state.

Skye had never seen this, though. He had never looked into the eyes of one of his fellows and truly understood the unthinking slathering beast that everyone knew dwelt in the hearts of all men, just waiting to be set free. He saw and was horrified. The teeth were grinding deeper into the flesh of his left arm until they hit bone, his right arm was being crushed in a vice grip, and his left shoulder was being gripped by the madman's right claw until he was sure the thumb was separating the joint. Those eyes, those mad unthinking eyes, bored into his skull; they taunted him with the knowledge that this was inside him to: he was also one of these creatures.

Skye's feet swung back and forth, ramming into the crotch of his attacker, but the man was unphased. He tried kicking the gut, the knee, anywhere his feet could reach, but there was no response except for the seething rage in his captor's eyes. Skye's feet had not touched the ground since he had been bitten, but he reached a new level of fear as the madman began to run while still holding Skye in the air.

The wind was knocked out of Skye's lungs as the two slammed into the arena wall, and the deranged man he struggled against kept trying to run. Lances of pain shot through his arm as the teeth gnawed into it. Blood streamed down the man's chin and between them, coating both of their chests. Skye didn’t know how long they were there against the wall before something slammed into his captor, grabbed the cretin's windpipe, and squeezed. It continued for a little while longer, but slowly the madman's eyes rolled up, he passed out, and let go. Skye slid down the wall and stood facing one of the two men who had been fighting over the pair of grapplers. He was dyed in patterns of navy and burgundy. A fully mature man, he was probably a semi-retired fighter by his looks. He had more than a fair number of scars, and they all looked real.

The stable man looked at Skye for a second and asked, "Can you continue, or do you yield? You look in no state to fight."

Panting with pain, Skye replied after a short pause, "If you don't mind, I'd like to finish this. If I'm not going to win, I at least want to be unconscious when the winner is declared."

The man patterned in navy and burgundy laughed, "Then meet me at the midpoint, so we can square off and give you your wish."

They walked to the center of the arena, and Skye's head was starting to swim from the loss of blood. He held his focus though. He noticed that the older man was slightly limping; not with a limp of a new injury though. The older man moved as though the limp were a part of him. They squared off. The older man pulled his hands together in the sign of the crescent enclosed fist and bowed. That was a bow of definite respect for one’s opponent. Skye willed his mangled arm up and into the sign then bowed a few degrees deeper, despite the tidal waves of agony he managed to hold back from all his face but the eyes. A look of pleased surprise crept onto the older man's expression as he moved into a ready stance.

Skye knew that with how much blood he had lost (and was still losing) all that his opponent had to do, honorable as he seemed, was to wait for Skye to pass out. The young man made the first move. He advanced in a side stance that kept his injured arm behind him and tried to use the same maneuver he had bested his first opponent with. His back fist swung towards the old man's forehead, and after being blocked away swung for the sweet spot in the crotch; only to find the other hand waiting there in a block. Then the old man wrapped his foot around the back of Skye's advancing leg and gave an open palmed blow to the chest, thus knocking Skye over backwards.

Skye stopped himself as best he could by putting his good hand out for a one armed back-bend, but that left his back open to the old man's knee which sent Skye sprawling. He fell on his left arm, grinding sand into the wound and making him gasp in pain. Skye tried spinning on that side to swing his leg around for a sweep kick. Sand, however, is not conducive to such a maneuver, and he succeeded only at grinding even more grit into his wound while the old man was able to position himself for a solid kick.

Skye saw the foot swinging towards his face. His head resounded with pain, and the sun faded dark.